


Don't Say "Perfect" in Kirkwall

by greyeyedwarden



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Friendship, Other, Satinalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:52:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyeyedwarden/pseuds/greyeyedwarden
Summary: Christmas fluff! Aveline tries to get the crew together to create a perfect Satinalia holiday for Hawke. It... does not go well.Some slight Merribela shipping in there, but it's more implied.





	Don't Say "Perfect" in Kirkwall

**Author's Note:**

> Written circa Dec 2015 for a secret santa exchange

Aveline paced the line in front of her charges. They were a slovenly bunch, but what could she do. She hadn’t picked them.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, this is a very difficult and delicate operation. First we will divide into teams of two and then–”

Varric sighed. “Aveline, it’s decorating for Satinalia, not breaking down a lyrium ring.”

“No chattering!”

She looked down the line again. Anders was nearly asleep on his feet from another long night at his clinic. Merrill, not being Andrastian, had absolutely no idea what was happening, though she seemed cheerful enough. Isabela was staring at the baubles, probably judging how much they were worth. Fenris, as always, was sullen and reeking of wine. Only Sebastian seemed to be at all ready to take commands, but he didn’t quite count. 

Aveline rubbed at her eyes. “Hawke has done everything for us. The least we can do is give her a perfect holiday.”

Varric laughed. “Careful. If you say ‘perfect’ too loudly in Kirkwall something spontaneously combusts.”

She decided not to continue indulging the dwarf. He would just keep needling, or, Maker forbid, use the conversation in one of his ridiculous stories. She cleared her throat.

“The teams are as follows: Merrill and Isabela on greenery. Sebastian and Anders on lights. Carver and Fenris are on cleaning–”

“Cleaning! With him?” exclaimed Carver. “You have seen his house right? There are still–”

“And Varric and I will be on food,” Aveline continued. “If you have a problem with your assignment… keep it to yourself. We only have two hours before Hawke and Leandra get back. I expect results people. Now break!”

They scattered, or rather meandered, to their tasks until only Varric was left. He followed Aveline into the kitchen.

“Do you know anything about cooking, because I sure don’t. And Bodhan was given the day off so…”

Aveline froze. She had entirely forgotten. The only reason she had assigned herself cooking was so she wouldn’t get too in the way. She figured Bodhan would just have her peel potatoes or something. 

But no, they could do this. She had fought ogres and abominations and Qunari, she could cook a goose. And gravy. And fish pie. And llomerryn sauce and jellied pigs feet and turnip stew. And at least two desserts. No, no, it was fine. Bodhan had known this was coming. All the ingredients were already in the kitchen. And Varric was a good partner, quick-witted and far less stubborn than any of the other men in the house. Yes, it could be done. As long as there were no interruptions.

She sat to start plucking the goose. It took longer than expected, but soon it was bare. She jammed a skewer through it and set it over the fire. She was about to start turning it when she heard her name being screamed across the house.

“What is it Carver?” she cried back. In a lower tone she added, “I swear to the Maker, you are making me regret begging Meredith to give you today off.”

Hawke’s brother ran in, flushed red and hands clenched. Aveline would have said he was angry except she had never seen him as anything but. Perhaps petulant and furious were his neutral expression.

“Fenris is drinking!” he announced.

That was a new complaint. Especially considering how he had never made mention of the former slave’s proclivity for wine. “And this is unusual why?”

“He’s not helping. He’s just sitting there drinking and saying that he’s not a slave anymore.”

“For the love of… fine. Here. I’ll come help you. Varric can you watch this goose for me?”

The dwarf looked up from his turnip chopping. “Sure thing.”

Aveline stepped into the hall. As Carver had said, Fenris was sitting on some crates, his bare feet dangling off the floor and an open bottle of wine in his hand. The unused broom was propped next to him. She snatched it up and started sweeping. 

“What are you doing? I thought you were cooking?”

“I want it to be clean for Hawke.”

Fenris sighed and hopped down. He took the broom from her hand. “For Hawke.”

“I thought as much.”

Aveline went back to the kitchen. But Varric wasn’t roasting the goose. He wasn’t even in the kitchen. Aveline grumbled, but took the spit again. She couldn’t go looking with the bird over the fire. It would burn, and then there would be no centerpiece. But she also couldn’t finish the other things by herself.

“Aveline?”

She had to try very hard not to show any anger in her face as she turned to face Merrill. “Yes?”

The tiny elf woman fidgeted in her innocent way. “I heard that Satinalia used to honor a Tevinter old god, but I don’t think that’s right.”

“It’s sort of right.” Aveline looked desperately at the goose. Some parts were already turning dark brown. “Listen, why don’t you ask Isabela to explain things to you? I’m a little busy right now. You’re supposed to be helping her anyway.”

“Oh I am. But she’s hanging things I can’t reach right now.”

“Fine. Have you seen Varric, by any chance?”

“No. Isn’t he supposed to be in here with you?”

“Exactly. But it doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Go back to Isabela.”

Merrill went away again. Too late, Aveline realized she could have gotten her to help in the kitchen, and then sent Varric to help with the decorations when he returned. Then again, he and Isabela together in a room rarely led to anything but a round of cards and tales that were half exaggeration and half made-up. It was the reason she hadn’t put them together in the first place. She’d have to go looking for him. But she also had to cook everything else.

Aveline reluctantly went to the table to finish the stew Varric had started. He’d actually finished most of it. Everything just needed to be thrown in the pot. But just as she got it onto the hearth she heard more yelling from the main hall. No, she would ignore it. They could deal with it on their own. They were all adults. She was not their mother.

With the stew cooking she moved on to the fish pie. She hated the smell, but Sebastian had requested it specifically and Isabela had seconded the idea. Anyway, the rest of them were willing to eat just about anything, particularly after all the hardships of trying to scrape by in Lowtown. 

The arguments finally subsided, and Aveline was just about to relax when Sebastian strode in. She kept concentrating on what she was doing. He was probably just looking for more candles. Or maybe he was coming to offer to help. He was the sort of person to do that. 

But as soon as she looked at his face she knew that wasn’t it. He was completely flushed, and his mouth hung slightly open.

Aveline sighed. “Come on, out with it.”

“Sorry,” he said in his thick accent. “I just… I think you should switch Merrill and Anders.”

“Why, what’s the problem this time?”

“Isabela is, er, distracting her.”

“Distracting her in what way?”

Sebastian shuffled slightly. “Well you know they are hanging up the decorations and… I think Isabela wanted to give Merrill a… a… demonstration of the meaning of mistletoe and…”

Well at least Isabela was teaching her something about Satinalia. “Let me get this straight. You interrupted me because they were doing what you are supposed to do under mistletoe?”

“Yes. I mean no! Sorry but it’s, it’s distracting! And improper! And–”

“If you continue to bother me, there will be no fish pie. And a Prince of Starkhaven wouldn’t want a Saturnalia without fish pie, would he?”

He seemed scandalized, more so than by the kissing, and quickly ran back out to the front hall. Aveline shook her head and went back to work. The pie finally was put on the hearth. But there was still a small mountain of work. And Varric was still Maker-knew-where. Maybe he was stalling Hawke. That had to be it. He was clever. He would have figured out at the very beginning that they wouldn’t be able to manage it all on time.

But there was no time to think about that. She needed to start preparing apples for a tart or else there would be no desert. The peeling went fast enough, but as soon as she started chopping them there was more commotion from the main hall.

“Aveline!” Merrill called. “Anders and Fenris are fighting again.”

“Gentlemen!” she screamed. “Do not make me get out the spray bottle!”

“He started it!” replied Anders.

“Did not!” “I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it.”

There was silence for a moment, then the arguing started again. Aveline swore and tried to ignore them. But they were only getting louder. She closed her eyes for half a second to block them out. And then there was pain.

Aveline looked down reluctantly. She had cut a fairly large sliver off the top of her longest finger. She thought about continuing. She’d certainly been injured far worse. But cooking while bleeding seemed like a bad idea, if only for the sake of everyone’s health. She sighed and went out to the front room.

It was not quite shambles, like she expected, but it was no where near finished. She made a mental note to come back and help them when she was done in the kitchen. If she would ever be done.

Anders laughed and made sarcastic comments at her as he healed her hand. She ignored them. It was her own fault for being so foolish. Or maybe it was Varric’s fault for not being there. Or maybe everyone else’s for being trouble. At this point, it was difficult to tell.

“Fire!” screamed Sebastian.

Aveline ripped her hand back from Anders and ran to the kitchen. Sure enough there was billowing black smoke.

“I’ve got it!” cried Merrill as she threw a bucket of water at the hearth.

Whatever had been on fire made a loud hissing sound as it extinguished, but it was impossible to tell what it had been. The goose, the pie, and the stew were all dripping, blackened messes. Of course. Say ‘perfect’ too loudly in Kirkwall and something was bound to explode.

Aveline felt her heart drop. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry or sad. There was no time to do them all over. They couldn’t even buy food; most of the markets were closed for the holiday already.

“Aveline?” said Merrill.

“What now?” she hissed, still staring at the charred and soaked remains of the food.

“Varric’s back.”

Aveline whirled around, ready to scream. If he had just stayed at his post none of this would have happened. But it wasn’t just Varric in the doorway. There were a dozen people behind him, some of them holding baskets and pans and jars. They all looked vaguely familiar, but Aveline couldn’t place them.

“Varric, who are these people?”

“These are the people Hawke helped in the last year,” he said. “And they want to help now.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. And by the looks of it, we need all the help we can get. All right you guys, go to it.”

The people flooded in. The ones with food left their packages on the table before hurrying back into the main hall to finish cleaning and decorating. Aveline gaped after them.

“How did you…”

“Kirkwall is full of refuse and weirdos,” Varric chuckled. “But they’re grateful refuse and weirdos.”

“Thank you, Varric.”

“You’re welcome, Aveline.”

All at once everything took shape. The house was spotless. Bunting of pine stretched around the whole of the house and every room had a beautiful candelabra burning cheerfully. There were ribbons and glass baubles and pretty little painted centerpieces. Long tables were set end to end through the largest room and set with almost every plate in the house. Aveline wasn’t the sort to believe in miracles, especially not after the Blight, but this was very close to one.

Then an exclamation went up. Hawke was home!

She came into the hall with her arms stretched wide. “Aveline!” She wrapped her arms around her. “Varric said you did this?”

“We tried. I know it’s not perfect but…”

Hawke smiled. “It is perfect. Except for one thing.”

Aveline frowned. What had she forgotten?

Hawke laughed, then put her hand out. She blew on her palm and turned. An icy breeze flowed from her fingertips and touched everything in the room. Frost settled on all the greenery and made the air sparkle for a moment.

“There,” she said. “Now it’s a good old-fashioned white Satinalia. Now.” She draped her arm around Aveline’s shoulders. “Let’s eat before anything else goes wrong. It is Kirkwall, after all.”


End file.
